


Take me to Paris

by Fujusan



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Enjolras isn't an asshole for once, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Implied Kinkiness, Implied Sexual Content, Kinda no plot honestly just fluff and some plot, M/M, Parent!Grantaire, french!Enjolras, teacher!enjolras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-09 18:49:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12282354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fujusan/pseuds/Fujusan
Summary: "Monsieur Grantaire, oui?" Fuck.In which Eponine gets herself into some deep shit and Grantaire finds himself face to face with the hottest French teacher in the world.Disclaimer: I do not speak French so whatever French is in this either came from asking a friend or using multiple different resources to translate. I tried my best!





	1. You did WHAT?!

“You did WHAT?!” The paintbrush in Grantaire's hand came falling out of his hand as he stood up, splattering red paint all over the floor and his sweatpants. Eponine looked down at the floor, refusing to meet her uncle’s now furious gaze.

“She started it.” She mumbled, fiddling with her fingers. Grantaire raised an eyebrow. 

“You mean to tell me that your French teacher also threw a stapler at you, called you a fascist dictator, followed by a dumb whore, and then proceeded to _rip up your test paper_ and _throw_ it at you? Huh, what are the odds of that happening twice in the same day?” Grantaire wasn't what he would call a strict guardian per se, but he was most definitely sick and tired of Eponine causing issues at school. It had become a weekly occurrence for him to receive a phone call from the school regarding Eponine’s shenanigans. This time around, the notification had come in the form of a very long, very formal email. Eponine sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“You don't understand,R! Madame Fauchelevent _is_ a dictator! And she totally deserved the stapler!” Grantaire frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You could be expelled, do you realize that? You could get expelled, and we’ll have to move, and I'll lose _everything_ I've worked so hard to get. I'll lose my commission, and my clientele, and where will that leave us? _Fucked_!” His voice began to rise. “Goddammit, Ep, it's just one more year! One more year and you'd have a different teacher next year! You couldn't fucking control yourself?! What on _Earth_ possessed you to throw a stapler at your teacher?!” Grantaire never cursed in front of Eponine. Ever. Eponine shrunk back, guilt shining in her eyes. Grantaire sighed, angrily running his hands through his hair. 

“I'm sorry,” Eponine whispered, curling up against the wall, “Sh-she brought up Mom.” Eponine had had the same French teacher for years. Ever since she was five. Consequently, Madame Fauchelevent knew how Eponine had found her mom on Christmas Day, hanging from the ceiling, body limp and lifeless. Grantaire’s eyes softened, but only slightly.

“I’m sorry, Ep, but sorry isn't going to cut it this time around.” 

“A-Are you gonna meet with her?” She asked, tears welling in her eyes. Grantaire shook his head.

“No. I'm going to meet with the head of the language department, and you better hope to fucking God he's merciful.” Eponine’s eyes widened.

“Th-The head? But- Oh god, oh god I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, R. So So bad.W-When are you going?” He looked at his watch.

“In about an hour. You're grounded, by the way. For the rest of the school year. And depending on what happens at this meeting, possibly for the summer, too.” 

“Wh-What?! But R I- Parnasse and I were going to-” 

“That was before you decided to pull this little _stunt_ ,” he practically snarled. Grantaire didn't like being the bad guy, but he didn't have much of a choice. Making it as an artist in New Jersey was hard enough as it was, and if they had to move, there would be no steady source of income. Not until he could find a gallery that would accept his works. Tears flowed down Eponine’s face as she blubbered apologies, curling into a ball on the floor. Grantaire sighed. He _really_ didn't being the bad guy. “Look, Ep, I’m sorry, but you brought this upon yourself.” He held out his hand. “Phone.” 

“What? R, that's- that's not fair!” 

“Phone. _Now_.” Eponine shakily handed him her phone, tears still running down her face. 

“Depending on how this meeting goes, you can get it back at the end of the week, alright?” He gently patted her back, kissing the top of her head. “I love you, okay? I always will, even when you do dumb shit like this.” She sniffed, wiping the tears off her face and pulling Grantaire into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry.” Grantaire didn't say anything, pulled away from her embrace and headed into his bedroom to get dressed. He pulled on a pair of only slightly paint stained jeans, and a plain gray t shirt. He opted not to do his hair, figuring it would simply over complicate things, letting his curls lay wild and untamed on top of his head. He pulled on his favorite pair of black combat boots and headed back out into the small living room, where Eponine was still curled up against the wall.

“Ep, I'm heading out.”

“D-Do you think I'll be expelled?” Grantaire shrugged.

“For your and my sake, I hope not.” Grantaire knew he was leaving early, but he didn't want to be in the apartment any longer than he had to be, in fear he would lose his temper again. _‘God, please let this go well._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I'm not really a professional novel writer or anything, but I really did try my best to make this as good as possible. Feel free to leave any comments or suggestions about anything, I appreciate honest feedback! Anyway, if you're reading this, thank you so so much and I'll hopefully have the next chapter up soon!


	2. Fuck.

The walk to Eponine’s high school was long and cold, but Grantaire appreciated the time it gave him to ponder things and calm down. Besides that, it saved gas money, and if things took a turn for the worst, they would need all the money they could get. If he lost his job, if he could even call it that, he decided he could wait tables. It wouldn't provide much income, but if he really flirted hard, he could earn generous tips. They would definitely have to downsize the apartment they lived in, and make major financial cuts, but they'd get by. 

As he bounded the large stone steps of Bridgeport High, he took a swig from the small flask on his hip, in hopes of settling his nerves before he practically begged for his life in front of some snotty old administrator. Though he had originally intended to come to this meeting completely sober, he decided being slightly intoxicated and mellow would be better than having an outright panic attack. He wandered through the halls of the school, wondering how one could possibly navigate it on a day to day basis; the hallways weren’t labeled, nor were there any signs or indications that he was in the right place. Finally, after nearly 15 minutes of aimlessly wandering the halls, a small black sign on the wall labeled ‘Language Dept’ pointed right down one particularly long hallway on the second floor, and he followed it with haste, coming to the realization that he was already ten minutes late. ‘ _Fantastic,_ ’ he thought, turning the hallway and looking at the signs on the wall once more, ‘ _The meeting hasn't even started and I'm already making a bad impression._ ’ 

The office door was closed when he finally found his way to the language hall, and the lights were off. ‘ _Shit. What if I'm too late? What if he's already decided to go through with expulsion?_ ’ A light tap on the shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts and he whirled around, nearly losing his balance, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him. Before him was the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on. His blonde curls hung loosely around his face, his deep blue eyes shining with curiosity as he looked at him. He had a small frame, with narrow hips and shoulders, and he only stood at about 5’9, leaving Grantaire to tower over him at 6’2. He was wearing a tight white dress shirt that was rolled up to his elbows and hugged his biceps, and sinfully tight jeans that hugged his ass beautifully. He looked to be in his early 20s, whereas Grantaire was approaching 30 too fast for his liking. He smiled, revealing a small dimple in his cheek, and Grantaire could feel his face getting hot.

“Monsieur Grantaire, oui?” Fuck. Grantaire nodded, his mouth slightly shape. This man was definitely not who he was expecting. 

“Y-Yeah, that’s me,” Grantaire mumbled, finally somewhat regaining his composure. The man smiled again, opening the door to the office, and ushering Grantaire inside, closing the door behind them both. “S-Sorry I’m late, I- This school is so big and I had a bit of a hard time finding my way here.”

“That is alright, Monsieur. Have a seat,” he said, and Grantaire nearly fell into the chair in front of him. Grantaire glanced at the name tag on the desk;Dr. Enjolras. _Enjolras_. It suited the man perfectly. Dr. Enjolras sat in the chair behind the desk, and pushed a cup of hot liquid in front of him. “Do you like Coffee?” Grantaire nodded, shakily taking the cup off of the desk, and taking a sip. _God_ , he loved the man’s accent. 

“Th-Thank you.” Dr. Enjolras nodded.

“De rien.” He took a sip of his own coffee, running a hand through his mess of blonde curls, and sighed. “I assume you know what happened?” Grantaire nodded.

“Unfortunately, yes.” 

“And you know that Eponine can be expelled?” 

“Yes.” Dr. Enjolras leaned closer to him, resting his elbows on his desk. Grantaire expected him to say that that was exactly what was going to happen, and that nothing could be said or done to change it, but he didn't. He simply stared at Grantaire, looking him up and down, a small smile creeping onto his face as he met Grantaire's eyes once again, leaning back in his chair. “Please, Dr.-” Enjolras chuckled.

“Just Enjolras, s'il vous plaît. I find titles to be too ehm, ‘ow you say, formal.” Something in Grantaire’s heart fluttered as Enjolras winked, leaning forward once more. “Now what were you saying, Monsieur?” Enjolras’ eyes bore into him, and Grantaire was pretty sure his face looked like a tomato.

“U-Uh, Ep- Ep’s a good kid, really, she is. She just- She doesn't always know how to control her temper, and- She grew up in a rough household. Her mother, my sister, was a drug addict, and killed herself when Ep was 12, and I took her in. I- Please, don't expel her. I know that what she did really should lead to immediate expulsion, but she truly is a good kid, and-” Enjolras placed a hand on his, and Grantaire’s heart stopped. 

“Monsieur Grantaire, it is ultimately not my decision, of course, but I will do all that I can to make sure Eponine can finish out the year here, ok?.” Grantaire’s eyes widened.

“R-Really?” Enjolras nodded. “Thank you,” he said, unable to control the smile from spreading across his face. “You have no idea how much this means to us.” 

“Ce n'est pas un problème, monsieur. I know Eponine is a good kid.” He leaned closer, so that Grantaire could feel his breath on his face. “And between you and me, Madame Fauchelevent is, ehm, ‘ow you say?”

“A bitch?” Grantaire muttered, momentarily forgetting that this meeting could quite possibly be the difference between expulsion and suspension. Upon realizing exactly what he had said, his eyes widened, and he cupped a hand over his mouth. “Shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean- Fuck, I-” Enjolras simply smiled, and the tiny dimple Grantaire had noticed earlier reemerged.

“Do not worry, Monsieur, you said exactly what I was thinking. Anyway, Eponine, of course, will have to be moved to another French class. Seeing as though I do not think she needs to repeat French level 2, the best plan d’action would be to move her up. I believe she is perfectly capable, but, of course, the decision is yours, Monsieur.”

“Who teaches the level up? Not some douchebag like Madame Fauchelevent, I hope.” Enjolras’ eyes flickered with humour as a small smirk appeared on his lips. 

“I would like to think that I am not a, what is it, douchebag? Oui. I would very much like to think I am not a douchebag, Monsieur.” Grantaire flushed red, and Enjolras chuckled. 

“Oh God I am so sorry, I just- Sorry.”

“It is ok, Monsieur, no harm is done. If you so choose, Eponine will be in my class starting as soon as possible. Counselor permitting, of course.” Grantaire nodded.

“I dunno, Eponine can be quite a handful. I don’t want her to give you any trouble.” Enjolras smirked.

“Don't you worry, Monsieur Grantaire, I believe I can handle it.”Enjolras took another sip of his coffee, and Grantaire couldn't help but stare at his throat as he threw his head back, finishing off the contents in the cup. Grantaire could feel something stirring in his gut, and he willed it to go away, praying that Enjolras wouldn't notice. ‘ _Granny tits granny tits granny tits,_ ’ Grantaire thought to himself, and it worked, until Enjolras looked at him once again with his stunning blue eyes, and the image in his head went from a grandmother with her boobs flapping all over the place to Enjolras fucking him mercilessly over the desk. ‘ _Goddammit, R, think of something else._ ’ He glanced around the room as Enjolras continued to stare at him, and eventually his eyes settled on a framed picture on Enjolras’ desk. It was of him and two other men, standing by what Grantaire assumed was the Eiffel Tower. 

Enjolras was on one of the man’s backs, the one with sandy blonde hair and huge circular glasses on his face, his arms wrapped tightly around his neck, head nuzzled into his shoulder. And just like that, Grantaire’s heart sank, and feelings of sadness and disappointment began to fill his gut instead. Of course he would have a boyfriend, how could he not? He was gorgeous, practically Apollo himself. Grantaire wanted nothing more than to down the rest of the contents in his hip flask and punch a wall and scream at the top of his lungs about how foolish the thought of this man taking an interest in him, of all people, was. 

Enjolras seemed to follow his line of sight, and squeezed Grantaire's hand a little bit, bringing him out of his daze. “They are my best friends,” Enjolras started, smirking as Grantaire’s face turned the colour of a tomato. “And Combeferre,” he pointed to the man of whose back he was perched on, “Is like a brother to me.” 

“O-Oh.” Enjolras chuckled, standing up and walking towards the coat rack in the corner of his office. Grantaire couldn't help but admire his ass as he walked by, and Enjolras noticed, making sure to bend down extra slowly to pick up his scarf that had fallen on the ground. Grantaire licked his lips, feeling his jeans become tighter the longer he stared. He tried to will it away as best he could, finally succeeding, just as Enjolras finished putting on his coat. Grantaire stood from the chair as Enjolras walked over to him, a shy smile on his face. 

“I was thinking, if you would like, that ehm, maybe tomorrow I could take you out? Like, on a date.” It was the first time Grantaire had seen him nervous all evening. He smiled, twirling one of Enjolras’ curls around his finger. 

“I’d love that.” 

“Fantastique!” Enjolras seemed to freeze for a moment, thinking, before taking a deep breath and standing on his tiptoes to place a slow, tentative kiss to Grantaire’s lips. Grantaire slowly wrapped his arms around Enjolras' waist, pulling the smaller man closer, and allowing him to wrap his arms around Grantaire's neck, gently tugging on the small ringlets at the base of Grantaire's neck, earning a soft groan from the older man's lips. Eventually the kisses became more frantic, and it wasn't long before Enjolras’ tongue was in Grantaire’s mouth and he was pushed against the wall, legs wrapped tightly around Grantaire’s waist as Grantaire’s cold hands explored under his shirt, his own hands tangled in the older man's curls.

It was Enjolras who eventually pulled away, lips red, eyes gleaming. “Let’s say, six o’clock? Here?” Grantaire nodded, gently setting the man back onto the ground, and Enjolras smiled, going to pick up his coat and messenger bag. He placed a short kiss on Grantaire’s cheek before opening the door for the both of them to step out, and then locking it behind them.  
“Have a good night, Monsieur Grantaire,” he stated with a wink, and then started down the hallway, teasingly swaying his hips as he went. Grantaire shook his head, smiling, and feeling like a teenage boy again.

Never in a million years would he have thought that this would be happening so late in his life. He had decided at 24, after he had received Eponine, that he was fine with never finding anyone. And yet, here he was at 28, having just made out with the most beautiful man in existence, and feeling giddy with the prospect of tomorrow’s date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I think I'm going to try and update every other day from now on, but it just depends on how much free time I have and whatnot. Thank you so much to everyone who's reading this, I really appreciate it! Feel free to leave any comments or suggestions, and the next chapter will be up soon!


	3. Because You're Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So obviously, it's been a little longer than promised for this chapter to come out, but this past week has been absolute chaos for me, so I haven't really had a chance to work on it. I have the next chapter written as well, so that should be up on tuesday. Thank you guys so much for reading this, and feel free to leave any comments or suggestions down below.

“How'd it go?” Eponine asked the moment Grantaire stepped foot into their apartment, hope gleaming in her eyes. Grantaire sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Nothing's for sure yet, but Dr. Enjolras said he'd do what he can. In the meantime, he’s requesting to put you in his level 4 class.” Eponine let out a sigh of relief, and then, realizing exactly what Grantaire said, stiffened.

“What?! But- Oh god, please no! I'd rather stay in Madame Fauchelevent’s class! Dr. Enjolras is so mean, R! He- He's so strict!”

“Well maybe that's what you need, Ep.” She leaned closer to him, pure horror on her face. 

“Please don't make me! I'll be good, I- I promise!” Grantaire shook his head.

“You had your chance to shape up, Eponine, I’m sorry. Besides, Dr. Enjolras didn't seem too bad to me.” His thoughts went back to how Enjolras’ hands felt roaming his body, and how sinfully good he was at kissing. _‘Not bad at all,’_ he thought to himself. Eponine scoffed.

“Easy for you to say.” Grantaire sighed.

“Eponine, please, I’m _begging_ you to behave. You’ve only a few more months, and then it’ll be summer.” Eponine rolled her eyes. 

“I’ll still have the old fart next year,” she muttered, blowing a piece of hair from her face. 

“Eponine.” She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest, and jutting out her hip. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll behave.” Grantaire hugged her, a smile on his face. 

“Thank you, Ep. This means a lot to me.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.” Little did Grantaire know, Eponine had no intention of behaving. She stayed awake all night, thinking of ways to get back at the teacher for forcing her into a class she didn’t want to be in thinking of ways to get back at her uncle for not asking what she thought first. By the time 3 o’clock rolled around, Eponine had slashed three of her uncle’s canvases with a knife, dumped out three cans of paint over the balcony, and had drafted a whole list of things to get Dr. Enjolras to put her back down a level. She got up and left for school a little earlier than usual, if only to escape before Grantaire woke up and found his stuff destroyed.   
***  
Grantaire shuffled out of bed at around 10, already wanting the day to come to an end. He had 3 commission projects to work on, as well as his own personal projects, and not to mention his date with Enjolras. _A date._ Though he had spent just under three hours thinking about it yesterday, he still couldn’t believe it was happening. And he hadn’t been the one to ask. Enjolras had. _Enjolras_ , the man who may as well be Apollo himself, had asked him, on a date. As Grantaire went to get his supplies ready, realizing that if he busied himself the day would go by a lot quicker, he came across the damage Eponine had done to his art room. The canvases were torn, strewn about carelessly along the floor, and paint was dripping from the balcony, the empty cans scattered haphazardly around the room. He sighed, running his hands through his hair, and grabbed his wallet and keys from his dresser. He wasn’t mad, as he had anticipated her acting out, but he was concerned for Enjolras; if Eponine had reacted like this towards him, he couldn’t imagine how she’d act towards Enjolras.  
***  
“Eponine, is there something you wish to share with the class?” Almost immediately when Eponine entered the building that morning, she had been summoned by her counselor to his office. As it turned out, Enjolras had indeed kept his promise of keeping her from getting expelled, and the administration came to the conclusion that suspension would most definitely not be beneficial. So, the counselor had adjusted her schedule before school had begun, and Eponine now had French first thing in the morning.

“No.” 

“Then, if you do not wish to share, Arrêtez de parler, s'il vous plaît, and pay attention.” Eponine rolled her eyes and scoffed, but Enjolras showed no emotion except for pure disinterest. Everything she had did to try and make him mad, he had shut down with not so much as a single glance in her direction. “Merci.” He turned back to the board, and Eponine could not deny that her teacher had a great ass, and overall a great body, because apparently, Dr. Enjolras was not the old fart she had assumed him to be. His body, in fact, happened to be about 100 times more interesting to pay attention to than the words Enjolras was writing on the board, she decided. “Eponine?” Eponine snapped out of her daze, looking up to meet Enjolras’ hard stare. “I would very much appreciate it if you would look at the board, and not my ass, s’il vous plait.” She could sense the annoyance radiating from his voice, and smirked, realizing she had finally hit a nerve. 

“But it’s so… _mesmerizing._ ” And so it began, Eponine pushing Enjolras to the edge with inappropriate sexual remarks, and Enjolras silently wishing the period would go by faster.  
***  
By the time 5:50 rolled around, Grantaire had paint splattered all over his clothes, and his hair was more unruly than usual. Grantaire silently cursed himself for not being able to fix his appearance before leaving, but he most definitely did not want to be late. He decided to drive, coming to the conclusion that he couldn't run two miles in ten minutes, nevermind walk it. 

“I’m going out, Ep!” Grantaire called as he shrugged on a coat, something he forgot to do yesterday and wholeheartedly regretted. Eponine opened the door to her bedroom, raising an eyebrow.

“Where?” 

“I fail to see why it matters.” Eponine narrowed her eyes. 

“Well, at least tell me when you'll be back.” Grantaire shrugged.

“Sometime today. Bye, sweetheart! Oh, and don’t even _think_ about having your crazy fugitive boyfriend over, am I clear?” She nodded, but Grantaire knew she’d do it anyway. He closed the door behind him and headed down the rickety old apartment stairs, praying that they wouldn't give under his weight for at least one more day. He didn’t want to have to explain to Enjolras he couldn't make it because he had fallen through the stairs. He climbed into his car, starting the engine, and headed off to the high school, silently praying that the night would go well. Though he didn’t know him well, there was something about Enjolras that simply drew him to him. Never in his 24 years of living had he felt this way about anyone, and quite frankly, it scared him, if only just a little bit. Grantaire reached the high school in record time, parked crookedly in one of the spots closest to the building, and sprinted up the stairs, trying to be as on time as possible. He slowed as he approached the language hall, leaning against the wall to catch his breath before continuing down the hallway to Enjolras’ office. The office door was closed, the lights were off, and Enjolras was nowhere to be found. Grantaire felt his heart sink; had Enjolras really forgotten? It had only been a day. Grantaire wanted to punch himself for being so stupid as to think Enjolras would really want to go out with him, that the attraction he felt to the man had been mutual. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud groan of frustration and a string of angry sounding French.

Grantaire decided to investigate, slowly creeping down the hall, so as not to make any noise, and peering into the classroom, where Enjolras was standing amidst a pile of what most likely was once a chalkboard, looking quite disheveled. His tie hung loose around his neck, his shirt unbuttoned slightly, revealing the smooth skin underneath. His hair was disheveled, and white powder, presumably chalk, dusted his jeans. A pair of thick rimmed glasses were placed crookedly on his face, the lenses clouded with chalk. Grantaire couldn’t help but stare, for he thought Enjolras to look quite sexy. Enjolras muttered a few curse words under his breath before going to sit in the pile of rubble, running a frustrated hand through his curls. 

“Need some help, Apollo?” Enjolras’ head snapped up, and he furiously wiped his glasses clean before placing them back on his nose, beaming when he saw Grantaire standing in the doorway, an amused smirk on his face. He blushed a little realizing the state he was in, and stood up, trying to dust some of the chalk of his pants before walking towards where Grantaire was stood. 

“I think I will manage, Monsieur.” Grantaire wrinkled his nose, and Enjolras found it absolutely adorable. 

“Monsieur is so _formal_. Please, call me R.” Enjolras smiled, wrapping his arms around Grantaire’s waist and pulling him in for a hug.

“As much as I appreciate the pun, I think I will stick to calling you Grantaire.” Grantaire shrugged, placing a soft kiss on Enjolras’ nose. 

“Works for me, Apollo.” Enjolras looked up at him, a questioning look in his eye. 

“Apollo?” Grantaire nodded, pecking his lips. 

“Because you’re beautiful.” Enjolras blushed, and Grantaire chuckled, lacing their fingers together. “You ready to go?” Enjolras looked down at himself, his face turning more red as he realized how awful he looked. 

“I look terrible, Grantaire. I meant to go home but, eh, this happened, and-” Grantaire shook his head, tilting Enjolras’ head up so that he was looking him in the eyes. 

“You look stunning. So, Apollo, where to?”

“That is for me to know, and you to find out, mon cheri.” Grantaire huffed, and Enjolras squeezed his hand, a soft smile on your face. “Je promets, Grantaire, you will like it.” Enjolras lead him down the stairwell and out the door. “It is only a five minute walk. Is that ok?” Grantaire nodded. 

“Of course it is!” Enjolras smiled, gently letting go of Grantaire’s hand and walking faster, so that Grantaire was struggling to keep up.   
“C’mon, slowpoke!” Grantaire stuck his tongue out, and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I’m not young and spry like you, Apollo.” Enjolras rolled his eyes, taking Grantaire’s hand again and practically dragging him along. It wasn’t too long after that they reached a small cafe on a corner, and Enjolras stopped pulling. It was cute, Grantaire thought, and looked exactly like the place someone like Enjolras would go. Enjolras lead him inside and to a table in the corner of the cafe that was very nearly secluded from all the rest. “Don’t we have to wait to be seated?” Enjolras shrugged. 

“Usually, but I know people.” There’s a small gasp, and something clatters to the ground.

“Enjolras!” Grantaire turns around seeing a man dressed in obnoxiously bright flower printed shorts and an oversized white sweater, his hair cascading down his back in two loose braids, each decorated with purple flowers. Enjolras smiled, standing up, letting the man run to him and embrace him in a tight hug. 

“‘Bout freakin time you came to visit the Musain again!” The man looked at Grantaire, his eyes crinkling with the smile that spread across his face. “And who’s this?” 

“This is my, eh,” Enjolras looked at Grantaire, a fond expression on his face. “This is Grantaire. He’s my eh, he’s my date for tonight.” Grantaire couldn’t help but turn slightly red. The smaller man squealed, going over to pull Grantaire into a tight hug. 

“Do you know how long it’s been since Enjolras has been out with someone? It’s been _forever_.” It was Enjolras’ turn to blush. “I’m Jean Prouvaire, by the way, but friends call me Jehan.” Grantaire noted that, like Enjolras, Jehan had a French accent, though it was far less noticeable.

“N-Nice to meet you.” Jehan chuckled, unwrapping himself from Grantaire and looking him up and down. 

“First of all, there’s no need to be shy. I don’t bite.”

“Yes you do,” A voice from the bar called, and Jehan casually flipped whoever it was the bird, not even turning around.

“Second of all,” he turned to Enjolras, “He looks like a keeper to me, Enjy.” Enjolras, still red from Jehan’s previous comment about his rather nonexistent love life, seemed to turn even more so, looking at the floor, and clearing his throat. 

“S-So, I take it you and Feuilly are still together?” Jehan nodded, and turned to face the red headed man at the bar, who Grantaire assumed had made the comment about Jehan biting, with a fond expression on his face.

“Duh! In fact, I specifically remember telling you _last week_ that we had gotten engaged.” The redheaded man, Feuilly, winked, and Jehan blew him a kiss, turning around and sending Enjolras a teasing glare. “Which, of course, you probably didn't hear, because you're always so damn absorbed in whatever work you're doing.” 

“I’ve had a lot going on,” Enjolras mumbled, and Jehan clicked his tongue. 

“Excuses, excuses.” He turned to face Grantaire. “Don’t let him make up dumb excuses.” Grantaire nodded and saluted, and Enjolras pouted. 

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” Grantaire chuckled, snaking an arm around Enjolras’ waist, and kissing his cheek, to which Jehan squealed again. 

“I’ll be right back with the menus!” He called, skipping off to the bar to excitedly whisper something in Feuilly’s ear, who looked in their direction and smiled, whispering something back in Jehan’s ear. Enjolras shook his head, taking a seat, and placing his head on the table. 

“He seems nice,” Grantaire stated, and Enjolras rolled his eyes, though there was nothing but fondness in his expression. Jehan returned a few moments later with menus and water. 

“And don’t you worry about the bill,” he said, placing the stuff on the table, “‘Chetta’s got it covered. It’s on the house.” He skipped off, leaving the two of them alone again. 

“So Enjolras, tell me about you.” He cocked his head to the side. 

“What would you like to know?” Grantaire shrugged. 

“Whatever you want to tell me.” Enjolras looked thoughtful for a moment. 

“Well, I was born and raised in Dinan, which is about four hours driving from Paris. Eh, I’m 24, and a teacher, évidemment. I moved here two years ago, and Jehan came with me to study English here. He’s my housemate.” Grantaire nodded.

“What else? Like, your hobbies and ambitions and stuff.” Enjolras shrugged. 

“Well, my degree is in law, but eh, it does not have much use in America, because there are so many lawyers, so I got a degree in education. But eh, I would one day like to be a lawyer. What about you, Grantaire?”

“Me?” Enjolras chuckled. 

“Oui. Who else would I be talking to, hm?” Grantaire shrugged. 

“I dunno. Let’s see, uh, I was born in the states. In California, actually, and I moved to New York after college to become an artist, which is what I do now. I moved to Jersey after I took custody of Eponine, because my apartment in the city was most certainly not big enough for the two of us. I mostly do commissioned pieces now, but sometimes I do personal works, and sell them at art auctions and what have you. Ever since high school, I’ve wanted to travel the world. And ever since I saw my first Monet when I was 12, I’ve wanted to go to Paris.” Enjolras took a sip of his water, and placed a hand on Grantaire’s. 

“Paris is beautiful, Grantaire. I very much hope you get to go one day. Now, you should probably pick what you want before Jehan comes back.” 

“Well, what do you suggest?” 

“Everything here is très délicieux, Grantaire. I do not know what to suggest.” When Jehan came around to take their orders, Grantaire ordered whatever fancy shmancy thing Jehan had suggested, stating that he trusted him not to poison him, to which Jehan laughed and walked away. 

“I wouldn't trust him if I were you. I'm pretty sure he's ehm, ‘ow you call it, ehm... a witch? He’s always making weird mixtures in our kitchen and blowing stuff up.” Grantaire shrugged.

“I'll take my chances.” 

“Fais comme tu veux, Grantaire. Do not say I did not warn you.” Grantaire kissed his cheek. 

“Alright, Apollo.” 

The food came a few minutes later, and after deciding that no, Grantaire’s food was not poison, nor some weird magical concoction, they ate in a comfortable silence, and when they were both done, Jehan insisted on serving them dessert, to which they both politely declined.

“At least take some to go,” he pleaded, giving Grantaire a look that practically caused him to melt into a puddle. Enjolras, however, seemed unphased, which, Grantaire assumed, was why Jehan was looking at him instead. Grantaire sighed.

“Alright, fine, we’ll take some to go.” Jehan beamed, skipping off to the kitchen, his braids bouncing up and down as he went. 

“We could always try to escape now,” Grantaire whispered, a devious smile on his face. Enjolras shook his head. 

“He will only try to force feed it to me later, then.” Grantaire chuckled. 

“Alright, then wait it is.” Jehan returned shortly after with three boxes full of sweets, ranging from cookies to cakes to tarts. 

“I didn't know what you would like,” he told Grantaire, sheepishly handing him the bag full of boxes. 

“You're going to make me fat, Jehan,” Grantaire joked, taking the bag and taking a quick peek in the top box. Jehan shrugged, skipping away to tend to another table. “Shall we?” Grantaire asked, turning to Enjolras and extending his hand. Enjolras smiled, taking Grantaire's hand and intertwining their fingers. 

“We shall.” When they reached the school once more, and Enjolras walked Grantaire to his car, they parted ways, until Grantaire noticed that Enjolras was leaving the premises on foot, no car in sight. Grantaire caught up with him, rolling down the window and sticking his head out. 

“Do you need a ride?” Enjolras shook his head, giving him a soft smile.

“Do not worry, it is a short walk. I'll be fine.” Grantaire clicked his tongue, putting the car into park and unlocking the doors. 

“Wrong answer, Apollo. Cmon, it's really not a problem.” Enjolras smiled again, and shyly climbed into the passenger seat.

“Merci, Grantaire.” Grantaire ruffled his hair and kissed his cheek before starting the car again.

“You couldn't possibly have thought I was going to allow you to walk home alone in the dark, did you?” Enjolras flushed, burying himself further into his coat.

“No, I suppose not.” 

“Good. Now that we have that settled, where to?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So I'm not really a professional novel writer or anything, but I really did try my best to make this as good as possible. Feel free to leave any comments or suggestions about anything, I appreciate honest feedback! Anyway, if you're reading this, thank you so so much and I'll hopefully have the next chapter up soon!


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